


happiness runs (in a circular motion)

by seemeeimbeebee



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cygnet Believer, Emma and Killian ARE together in this, Forgetting, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Memories, Post Season 7, Swan Believer, and how guilty you can feel forgetting sometimes, but this fic deals with Henry growing up without Neal, it's okay to be happy after people die you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 12:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19251310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seemeeimbeebee/pseuds/seemeeimbeebee
Summary: "Henry inhaled sharply. Memories, flickers of angry voices and warbled questions sounded in his mind and he couldn’t swallow the lump in his throat this time. 'It’s funny you bring that up,” he whispered in a cracked voice. “Because she asked about my dad. If I had any good memories of him that I could tell her about.'"How does Henry deal with being the Author and forgetting his father? He's got a great mom that won't let him deal with that alone.





	happiness runs (in a circular motion)

**Author's Note:**

> This originally was gonna be a happy fic about Emma and her two kids but then this happened but I'm hoping that you enjoy it nonetheless.

“Not Papa,” his little sister declared in a very matter of fact voice, still grinning up at him with bright eyes. “Mama! Not Papa!”

His mother smiled warmly down at his baby sister before scooping her up. “You’re right, Hope. That’s not Papa. It’s Henry. Can you say Henry?”

“Not Papa,” Hope repeated, still beaming happily and reaching for him.

“Sorry,” Emma said with a laugh, stepping back to let him into the house. “She’s doing this thing now where every man she recognizes and likes but isn’t Killian is ‘Not Papa’. I mean, so far it’s just you and David, but we’re trying to get her to say actual names. Isn’t that right, Hope?” She nuzzled her nose to her daughter’s, letting out a soft laugh when Hope squealed with delight and began to giggle.

There was certainly an unbridled joy to Emma’s face when she spoke of her daughter. But then again, he’d seen that smile too when his mom talked about him or she was proud of him.  And if he was honest, it was nice to see his mom so happy.

“Don’t worry about it, Mom,” he told her and as try as he might, he couldn’t quite stop the catch in his voice. Emma’s head tilted almost imperceptively and the corners of her smile faded slightly, her brow furrowed.

“Come in,” Emma told him gently. “Let me put your sister in her playpen and we can chat in the kitchen. I’ll even whip up some hot cocoa and cinnamon.”

When he was younger, sometimes he resented the fact that Storybrooke never really changed at his core, the routine stifling and nauseating when all he wanted was to explore. But it was comforting now to know that even though he was grown up with a daughter of his own, he could still come home if he needed.

Henry took off his shoes and hung his coat up on the coat rack, the action practically instinctual before he headed into the kitchen. Two cups of hot cocoa with whipped cream—and cinnamon of course—sat on the top of the table already. His hand curled around the mug and he sat there for a moment, just looking at the drink while he listened to his mother bustling in the other room.

“Mama!” Hope whined. “Wan’ not Papa!”

“Maybe when you learn his name,” Emma teased over her shoulder as she walked into the kitchen.

He looked up at her, still trying to come up with the words. She was expecting him to, after all she could tell he was upset about something. He was the one who’d just shown up at her door, like he did all those years ago. How many years had it even been? With curses and timelines, it was hard to tell.

_ You’re an adult, what are you running to your mother for? Handle it on your own! This is so stupid!  _ The voice in his head sounded like some of the boys he’d known through school and through his adventures. Nick for sure.

_ There’s no shame in talking to someone if you need help. You’ll be better off for it. Nothing good in this town ever happened from keeping secrets. _  This voice sounded like an interesting mixture of both his mothers and Killian.

Still, he couldn’t quite spit it out.

His mother looked at him for a moment before she pulled out a metallic tin. “Killian has gotten into baking lately,” she said, placing the tin in front of him. “He makes chocolate chip cookies that are to die for.”

“Well, he’s probably died enough times to get that good,” Henry teased, and Emma let out a wry laugh, sitting across from him as she took a cookie and dipped it in the hot chocolate. Henry followed suit.

“He’s really gotten into The Great British Baking Show,” Emma told him, waving the cookie idly in his direction. “I think he’s planning on opening a bakery, what with the merged realms and all. Or at least, if that’s any indication of what his work in our kitchen is like lately. Probably would call it The Jolly Pie-dger or something.”

“That’s a terrible name,” Henry snorted.

“You try coming up with a nautical name on the spot like that!” Emma protested and they both laughed. She smiled gently at him before prompting, “Ella and Lucy doing okay? With the merged realms and all? You’re pretty familiar with Oz and the Land of Untold Stories and all of that. But from what I understand the other Enchanted Forest was pretty isolated. Ry was telling me that Regina’s having him study tons to catch up so he can act as an ambassador.”

“Ry? The other me?” Henry asked. “I didn’t realize you still…”

“He’s my son,” Emma said simply. “You both are. I figured if the realms were merged, I told him he could come stay if he ever wants to give being a normal teen a try or needed a break.”

“And he takes you up on that?” Henry asked, surprised. “He took Regina as his other Mom pretty quickly—”

“He thought I was dead,” Emma said, her hand curling around her mug of hot cocoa. “I know I have a lot of work to do to make up for abandoning him.—”

“You didn’t abandon him,” Henry protested.

“—and that’s for me to worry about.” Emma smiled at him, reaching across the table to gently take his hand. “You know that one of my favorite things about you is your heart? I’m always so impressed with how large your capacity is to love and care for other people. And I feel so special and lucky that I get to be one of the recipients of that.” She squeezed his hand gently. “Ella and Lucy must feel very lucky too, given the tumultuous time they’ve gone through.”

“We have been through a lot,” Henry admitted, squeezing his mother’s hand back gently in return. “But honestly, Lucy loves all this. We can’t go anywhere without someone recognizing me from before and they have stories, and Lucy is determined to hear every story that’s ever been told.”

“Sounds like her father,” Emma teased fondly.

Henry rolled his eyes playfully. “You should just be lucky that I had magical powers that made the story come to me. No filtering, no skewing just the story. I mean, how do you even choose what story to tell a kid, especially when they ask?” he asked his mother.

“Well, sometimes you can lie about it and have it all come to light later in a dingy apartment in New York because you don’t know how your kid is gonna react to the truth and it turns out he’s more mature than any adult in the room,” Emma said wryly, bringing her mug to her lips.

Henry inhaled sharply. Memories, flickers of angry voices and warbled questions sounded in his mind and he couldn’t swallow the lump in his throat this time. “It’s funny you bring that up,” he whispered in a cracked voice. “Because she asked about my dad. If I had any good memories of him that I could tell her about.”

“What did you tell her?” Emma murmured softly, moving her chair closer to him as she set her mug back down on the table.

“She doesn’t know about him letting you go to jail for him.” His lip trembled as he once again tried to swallow the lump in this throat. Ducking his head, he tried to stop the tears from springing to his eyes.

“That’s not what I asked,” his mother said gently, pressing her forehead to his bent head.

“I…” Henry started again, his voice catching. Emma pulled him into a hug, cupping the back of his head. His shoulders lowered and the tears began to pour down his cheeks as he curled into the familiar and safe embrace. “I didn’t know what to tell her. There’s memories. Pizza. A sword fight. Parts of Neverland, I think. But those are things I did with him, not anything about him,” he sobbed.

His mother’s shoulders were shaking too, he could feel the dampness of her tears against the side of his head, but she didn’t interrupt.

“I’ve pretty much forgotten what he looked like then. What he sounds like…I…I know he was my dad. But I don’t remember any of it. And the pictures in the storybook only help so much,” Henry sobbed. “How am I supposed to talk about him when I  can’t really remember anything about him? He must hate me!” 

“No, never,” Emma promised, rubbing his back with her free hand. “Your Dad would never ever hate you.” She pulled away and cupped his cheek. Her smile was weak and watery and her eyes were filled with tears. “You’ve lived such a wonderful and amazing life. I can’t imagine how many new memories you’ve made, so many happy and brilliant and wonderful or confusing things that have happened. Your brain doesn’t have room for all that, and...and as much as it hurts, it’s okay to not remember.” 

She swallowed the lump in her throat before continuing. “I’ve forgotten bits too. Neal. I spent a few years with him when I was a teenager and those few months when he came back into our lives…” 

“It wasn’t enough,” Henry said quietly. “We didn’t have enough time to be happy together.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Emma agreed. She pulled away so she could cup his cheek. “But that is all he ever wanted for us. For both of us. He wanted us to be happy, so even though he’s not here, even though you can’t remember him...every time you feel happy, or any time you just stop to take a moment to see what you’ve got, let him be a part of that memory.”

Henry buried his face in his mother’s shoulder, a sense of relief washing over him as his arms wrapped around him again. They stayed like that for a while, until Hope’s loud protestations from the other room drew them away with a laugh.

“I’m glad I came here,” Henry admitted, wiping his tears away. “I...sometimes I feel like there isn’t anyone I can share this with. Ella’s father is gone but she tells Lucy so many stories about him. Her whole face lights up when she tells Lucy about him. I wish I felt the same way.”

“It’s not that you don’t love him, it’s just that you can’t really draw on memories and stories the way she can,” Emma guessed.  
  
Henry nodded. “Gold is dead, Milah’s been dead for a long time, Killian knew him as a boy but that’s not the same...there’s no one who really knew him as my dad, except for me and you.” He shrugged. “And it felt really stupid for coming to my mom, crying…”

“You’re always gonna be my kid,” Emma said affectionately. “So if I can help you I will. Always, Henry.” She wrapped him up tightly again in her arms. 

“Mama!” Hope called from the other room.

“Though you may have to share me with your sister sometimes,” Emma murmured, laughing again as she drew back. 

“That’s fine with me,” Henry said with a laugh. He leaned back to sip thoughtfully on his cocoa. A white swirl appeared surrounded him for a moment and when it disappeared, Hope was sitting contently on his lap. “Well, hey, Hope,” he murmured, cuddling his little sister close.  
  
“Henry!” Hope declared with a smile.

“Tallahassee,” Emma murmured to herself with a fond smile.


End file.
